


what do you think about?

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic Park Original Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, M/M, Serious Injuries, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: In the midst of his recovery after Jurassic Park, Alan asks Ian a question. Ian's answer is far from satisfying.





	what do you think about?

The sun is shining down, and Alan can see the bandages around Malcolm’s leg. The guy’s barely wearing a thing, his white shirt open and baring his whole chest to the light, and his shorts - which are tight and black - are cropped thigh on the thigh, so that Alan can see the swell of bandage wrapped on his leg.

He’s treating his recuperation like a damned holiday, spending hours in the sun beside the pool, enjoying the sun. He doesn’t read, doesn’t listen to music - Hell, the guy even seems happy when nobody is  _talking_  to him.

Malcolm just sits, for long periods, with his sunglasses on but presumably awake, and thinks.

“What do you think about?” Alan demands, one day. “You just sit there by the pool, enjoy the hotel… What are you thinking about?” Malcolm laughs, quietly, and he takes a slow sip of his water: guy barely drinks, after all. Doesn’t see the need for it. 

“Things,” Malcolm purrs, quietly. “Chaos. You know, uh…  _Stuff_.” He pushes the sunglasses up his nose, and Alan can see the slight shift in his face as he alters his position: he tries to bite it back, but his eyes narrow, his nose wrinkles up, and his lips pull back in pain. 

Malcolm’s eyes are a deep hazel, catching the light and seeming even darker for a second or two, and then he grins a little. It must hurt, his leg. It always seems to, no matter how much he tries to hide it. In his chest, Alan feels the slightest twinge of something, a drag, a pull, inside him. 

“Handsome guy like you, Alan,” Malcolm murmurs, his tone low and deliberate. “You and Ellie, you should… Go out somewhere. You don’t need to, uh, you don’t need to watch  _me_ , huh? I’m just here, next to the pool. Sunning myself a little while I heal up.”

“Why just me and Ellie?” Alan asks. “Why not come with?” Malcolm pauses, just for a second, and then slowly pulls the sunglasses off the top of his head, and Alan finds himself wondering, just for a second, how it would feel to run his hand through Malcolm’s hair. It’s thick and black, looks like it’d bounce back under Alan’s fingers, looks  _soft_. 

It strikes him that that’s a strange thought to think. A lot of the thoughts he has around Malcolm are like that - guy’s just a rockstar, gives off an energy, a vibration… Alan isn’t–  _Men_. Not something he thinks about. Women, not really women either.

Ellie’s different. And Malcolm–

“ _Honey_ ,” Malcolm murmurs, and Alan feels a little of the moisture dry off his tongue. Malcolm’s different too. “I told you. I’m  _sorry_. I don’t want to, mmm, mess up what you guys have, uh, have going on.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Alan says, reflexively. Malcolm arches one dark eyebrow. “Okay. Nothing you can’t be involved in.” The other eyebrow rises. Alan wrinkles his nose. “Not what I meant.” Isn’t it, though? Isn’t– “Well.”

Malcolm pauses. “Well?”

“Well,” Alan says. He swallows. Where the Hell is Ellie? She’s never around when he needs her. “You know. It’s just dinner.” Malcolm leans forward slightly, and again, Alan sees the shift of pain, the quiet grunt and the grit of his teeth: he sets his hand on Malcolm’s hip, keeping him steady. Malcolm’s  _warm_ , hot from the sun, and Alan can feel the slight sheen of his skin. Malcolm is no longer looking at Alan’s face, but at his hand, his lips parted, and Alan can feel the sweat on his skin, feel–

“You can feel the pulse, right?” Malcolm asks, his voice suddenly a lot huskier, coming from lower in his throat. “That’s, uh– That’s always regular. Buh-buh. Buh-buh.” Alan presses his fingers down a little harder, feeling the muscle and flesh shift under his skin, and Malcolm shivers, exhaling slowly. Alan can feel his heartbeat, sure, feel it speeding up.

“Seems pretty irregular to me,” Alan mutters. His own blood is rushing in his ears. Where’s Ellie? Ellie’d know what to say - Christ, Alan never knows what to say, and he can feel Ian Malcolm under the flat of his palm, feel his stomach twitch… “You should come out with us. Both of us.”

“And after?” Malcolm asks. “What about when you go home?”

“You can come home with us too,” Alan murmurs. 

“Seems like something you should ask her about.”

“We’ll ask her together.” Malcolm’s hand settles on top of Alan’s. He’s got long fingers, hot to the touch and  _broad_  over Alan’s own hand, his fingers tapping a staccato rhythm against Alan’s wrist. 

“Kay,” Malcolm murmurs. “Let’s– Okay.” Alan’s stomach flips in his belly. He cannot think of what to say, and he elects to stay silent just for a few moments longer, just–

“You’re cute, you know,” Malcolm says. “You know that?”

“Ellie says so,” Alan says. “I don’t see myself as  _cute_.” 

“I do,” Malcolm says. 

Somebody walks past behind them, moving past the pool, and Alan pulls his hand back. 

“Tell me, then,” he says. “About… Stuff. Chaos.  _Things_.” Malcolm grins.

“Okay, honey. Let’s start with… Hold out your hand for me.” 

Restraining the urge to roll his eyes, Alan does. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/faq). Requests always open.


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